“Here you go, Daddy,” Alexis says, handing me my very milk-groggy son. “He needs to burp and he also needs his nappy changed. I should only be gone for three hours. Ring me if you need anything and I’ll come straight up. If he happens to get hungry again or I’m running a little late there’s backup milk that I’ve expressed in a bottle in the fridge. He’s got a little nappy rash, so don’t forget the cream and—“
“Go!” I demand, kissing her worried face and stopping her rant. “We’ll be fine. Won’t we, Bray?” I ask, giving him a fist-bump. “Go and enjoy yourselves.”
“Bye kids,” Alexis calls out, Nate and Charli reciprocating their acknowledgement by shouting back.
Carly links her arm around Alexis’ and practically drags her to the front door, Tash giving her arse little smacks on the way there. I’m momentarily jealous, wanting to be the one giving her arse small smacks, not only with my hand but with my hips and...
Brayden’s little cry snaps me out of my light bondage fantasy of Alexis. “Shit! Burp, that’s right,” I murmur to myself. “Sorry, buddy.”
I drape the burping cloth over my shoulder and hoist him up gently, patting his back as I walk upstairs toward his nursery. Seconds later, he lets out a noise that I’m fairly sure was not solely a burp.
“That did not sound good, Bray,” I state, a little concerned. “That sounded wet.”
Passing Charli’s bedroom, I find her lying on her stomach on the floor, colouring in. “Hey, Charlotte. What you doin’?”
“Drawing Addison a best friend picture. Do you like it?” she asks, holding up a pink piece of paper covered in girly pictures and sparkly shit.
“Yeah, it’s...girly.”
Charlotte giggles. “Of course it’s girly, silly. Addison is a girl. I can’t give her a boy picture.”
As per usual, the little lady is correct.
“No you can’t,” I say with a smile as I turn and head toward Brayden’s nursery.
“Um...Bryce?”
“Yeah,” I call back, twisting around.
Charlotte screws up her face and points toward me. “You have baby spew on your back.”
I twist further and catch a glimpse of a white trail down my shirt. “Gee...thanks, Brayden, just what Daddy has always wanted. Come on, looks like we are both getting changed.”
I walk back out of the room.
“Can I help?” Charlotte calls out.
“Sure.”
We enter the nursery, and I automatically smile at the Space theme Alexis and I agreed on. Stepping in here reminds me a little of being in the Observatory. Painted on the walls and roof are constellations, planets and spaceships. Okay, so the spaceships don’t remind me of the Observatory but the rest does.
Right before I lay Brayden down on the change table, he lets one rip, except like the burp beforehand, it sounds incredibly wet.
“Please don’t tell me you did what I think you just did?” I groan.
He grunts a little, reinforcing that, yes...he did.
“Err, what’s that smell?” Charli whines, pinching her nostrils.
“What do you think it is?” I ask, not really requiring an answer.
“Brayden, did you just do poo poo in your nappy?” Still pinching her nostrils, Charlotte drops her head close to his face. “Poo poo is for the potty.”
He widens his eyes at her closeness, seemingly to adjust his tiny vision.
“He’s a bit young for the potty, Charlotte.”
“Starlight’s a baby and she uses the potty.”
Who the fuck is Starlight?
I look at her a little perplexed. “Who’s Starlight?”
“My baby doll.”
“Oh.” I don’t really know what to say to that.
Unbuttoning his little blue onesie, I soon become horrifyingly aware that yes, the wind he not long ago broke, was not wind at all. Instead, what is filling his nappy and spilling out over the sides, is my worst nightmare.
“Aw, Brayden...what the crap, buddy.”
I lift his legs out of his onesie only to find the mushy shit has found its way down them as well. Aah, shit! It just keeps getting worse.
Charlotte spots the poo-splosion and takes a step back. “That’s just gross.”
“Tell me about it,” I agree whole-heartedly.
Attempting to free his arms as well, his little hands clench the sleeves, preventing my efforts. Why are these stupid onesies called Wondersuits? There’s nothing fucking wonderful about them.
“Brayden, let go,” I laugh at him with frustration, as I gently try to pry his fingers apart.
He does as he’s told—well...technically not—and I get him free from his suit. Except now, I have to tackle the singlet...which I’m pretty fucking sure was white when Alexis put it on him this morning. Now looking at it, it’s a yellowish brown and stuck to his skin. Why do babies have to wear so much bloody clothing?
“Shit!” I curse to myself, now beginning to stress out.
“Don’t swear,” Charlotte says from behind.
I twist around to find her inconspicuously taking steps backward toward the door. “Where are you going?” Don’t you bloody abandon me now.
“To my room.”
“You said you wanted to help.”
“That was before I saw that,” she says, pointing to Brayden’s nappy.
“You can’t leave. I need all hands on deck...Nate!” I shout, hoping for an extra set of them.
Within seconds, Nate comes into the room looking worried. “What?”
“I have a situation with you brother,” I explain as calmly as possible.
“Don’t do it, Nate,” Charlotte warns. “Don’t go any closer.”
“What’s wrong? What’s that smel—“
“That smell is what Brayden is covered in and no doubt soon to be covering me.”
I hate to admit it, but I cannot see any way out of becoming victim to his mess.
“Right. And what do you want me to do about it?” Nate asks, now stepping back to where Charlotte is standing.
“Pass me things.”
“What things?”
Good fucking question.
“Um...wipes. I need wipes! But first get one of those smelly bag thingies.”
“I’ll get the bag,” Charlotte pipes up.
Nate moves to my side. “I’m on the wipes.”
“Good. Let’s get this shit sorted.”
“Don’t swear,” Charli says again.
“Sorry,” I mutter, feeling a little less overwhelmed.
Cringing like a God damn pansy, I peel Brayden’s singlet from his tiny chest, lifting it over his head and accidently wiping some of the shit on his cheek. Fuck! Sorry, little mate.
“Ew, you just wiped poo on his face,” Charlotte complains.
“Shhh, I didn’t mean it. Don’t tell your mum,” I plead like an idiot. “Hold the bag out.”
She holds the bag out and I drop the singlet in it.
“Wipe!” I command, now sounding somewhat like an army sergeant. “On second thought, Nate, make that a few wipes.”
He hands me a whole bunch of them, and I wipe the shit off Brayden’s cheek then tackle his back and tummy. Soon, we seem to have the situation under control, the mushy poo smeared nappy and clothing in a bag.
Looking down at Brayden’s Mr. Doodle—Bloody hell! Alexis and her stupid nicknames—I fret for the smallest of seconds after discovering I don’t have it covered. The last thing I need after cleaning him up is having piss everywhere.
Quickly, I grab a nappy and place it over the top of his unpredictable little fella, and then sigh with relief. “Okay, Nate, grab another singlet and suit, please,” I say, and wait for the fresh items of clothing.